


Sea Breeze

by Turnandfacethepaige



Series: Lancelot Week [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Day 1: Villains and Heroes, M/M, hooray!, i tried to be funny but chances are its not funny lol, part of Lancelot Week, starts out funny and then gets angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2019-02-04 10:55:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12769527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Turnandfacethepaige/pseuds/Turnandfacethepaige
Summary: For spy, Lance McClain, serving the good of the Republic has always been his dream. However, this becomes more difficult when he is forced to stop the villainous and unstable Prince Lotor, a villain who dreams of causing havoc to the universe with whacky schemes and plots. But is Lotor a villain? Or a just a hero that never quite got a chance in the spotlight?





	Sea Breeze

**Author's Note:**

> Day 1 of Lancelot Week: Villains and Heroes.
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy this! Just wanted to say that the bits at the beginning with the porridge and the rocket ship was inspired by an episode of Round the Horne, where a villain does exactly that. So yeah, not the most original of ideas lol.

For Lance McClain, serving the good of the Republic had always been his dream, ever since the troops of what would later became the Allied Republic had liberated his home planet of Tora Fe, ridding them of the race who had nestled their way into the darkness, wormed their way into the senate, the homes of everyone with fear and terror of what awaited them if they put one toe out of line, spoke one word wrong of the new order.

 

Lance had been six then, watching awe-struck as a soldier, clad in the white and light blue armour, had told his parents that their fear was over, that the Corillians had been defeated. That everything was finally safe. The soldier had seen his awe, had smiled at him, and laughed kindly when Lance had announced that he wanted to be just like him when he was grown up.

 

In a way, he did.

 

Once Tora Fe had been free, the Allied Republic had been set up - an coalition of all the planets that had been under the control of the Corillians, set up so that they would never, ever face that oppression again - and with the Republic came V.O.L.T.R.O.N.

 

V.O.L.T.R.O.N was the secret intelligence agency that had been set up during the Corillian wars to free the planets. The agents who worked of riot had been responsible for the felling of the Corillians, having infiltrated their ships, discovered where the next batch of troops were being sent, and cracked the codes used to communicate with the other planets. Not as prominent as the military, not as important as the politicians. But important enough to bring down the Corillian Empire. Prominent enough to be feared by other alien races. 

 

Cool enough for Lance to know he wanted to join.

 

**

 

That had been almost ten years ago. Now, Lance was sat on a chair in the park that was just around the corner from V.O.L.T.R.O.N’s headquarters and wondering why his dumbass eighteen year old self had decided to join the secret services and what kind of drugs he had to have been on to decide it was a good idea.

 

Joining V.O.L.T.R.O.N hadn’t been the bundle of laughs he’d been expecting. That was mostly due to the fact that he had encountered a walking drama queen in the shape of a mullet and a hideous red jacket who drove him up the wall every time he opened his mouth during the first month of training. 

 

But it was also because it had introduced him to Lotor.

 

Prince Lotor. The Heir to the criminal empire G.A.L.R.A. The criminal nut bag who seemed to spend every other hour of his life attempting to make Lance’s life a living nightmare.

 

Such as the time he had kidnapped the ambassador to Naboo in an attempt to give Lance the birthday present he had refused the last time he had met him. Or the time he had stolen the world cup so that he could practise making milkshakes in it, and later give it to Lance when Lance had arrived to stop him. 

 

Or that time when he had stolen the only rocket ship left on Tora Fe that had been used in the Corillian War to strap 200 tonnes of cold porridge onto it to blow up Titan because he had 200 tonnes of cold porridge left over and had no idea what else to do with it.

 

That guy.

 

And it was an odd thing as well - that those things only ever occurred when Lance was sent after him, and - when it became clear to everyone that Lance was the best person in tracking, apprehending, restraining and then filing paperwork against Lotor - when he was handed full responsibility to look after Lotor’s cases, Lotor even stepped up his notch.

 

Poisoning hundreds of flowers in a galactic flower competition to form the shape of a heart and Lance’s name. Stealing a priceless painting from a gallery in Epirus and having it personally sent to Lance’s desk with a little post-it stuck on the top with a heart, kissey faces, and Lotor’s signature sprawled at the bottom, followed by more little kissey faces.

 

Saving him, almost two days ago, from the edge of a collapsing black hole by grabbing him from where he dangled, bloodied, exhausted and tired, and all but carrying him back to his ship in his arms. Lance had been drifting in and out of consciousness, but even he had been able to see, clear as day, the concern, the worry, that swathed across Lotor’s face as he washed and tended to his wounds, carefully pulled his dirty shirt and trousers from him, covered him in a blanket, stroked his head tenderly, gently until Lance had tripped into sleep.

 

That guy.

 

Lance had awoken in the hospital a little while later, Coran, Allura, Keith and Pidge peering nervously at him.

 

‘The doctors said you’re alright,’ Pidge had blurted out the minute he opened his eyes. ‘Only a couple of bruises and you’ve broken your left arm, but you’re alright.’

 

Lance tried to ignore her pink-rimmed eyes and her damp looking cheeks in favour of sitting up, which earned him flapping hands trying to help him up, and facing Allura.

 

‘Where’s Zarkon?’ he had demanded.

 

Allura’s pretty face crumpled into worry.

 

‘Lance,’ she said gently, ‘We lost him. He slipped away after throwing you towards the  black hole. We don’t know where he is. We have no idea what he’s planning now.’

 

Lance opened his mouth.

 

‘Lance,’ Keith pushed forward, coming to stand by the edge of his bed, ‘You did the best that you could. Nobody else could have done better than you. You had to fight him singlehandedly, and you did it well enough that he’s injured; he’ll be slowed down for enough days that we can catch up to him.’ He rested his hand on his shoulder. ‘It’s not your fault.’

 

Pidge piped up from the back. ‘Yeah! We have an idea where he might be now! You saved us so much time, dude. You did great!’

 

Lance swallowed. He wasn’t used to this sort of thing from them. Most of the time it was laughter when being asked about what kind of hare-brained scheme Lotor had cooked up this time, or a couple of jeers and leers when he glanced over at Allura and her cascading white hair. Not niceness. Not really. 

 

He said, his voice hoarse and croaky, ‘Where’s Lotor?’

 

A silence befell the room.

 

Coran said, ‘We’re not sure. The last thing we knew about him was from you - that he was around near Epirus aboard a ship.’

 

Lance said, ‘Oh.’

 

Keith asked, ‘You don’t think he can help us, do you?’

 

‘No. Not really.’

 

Allura stepped forward, resting her hands over Lance’s own, her white hair tumbling, a glowing white river in the light, smelling of sandalwood and jasmine, her wide eyes glittering with warmth and pleading kindness.

 

‘Lance,’ she said gently, ‘Lotor is Zarkon’s heir. He has no business working with us. He had a chance at proving loyalty to us, to the Republic, and it couldn’t stand up. He almost ruined us. He’s not worth going to for help. Do you understand?’

 

‘Yeah,’ Lance said quietly, ‘I won’t go for him for help.’

 

And it was the truth. Lance wasn’t intending to go to Lotor for help for V.O.L.T.R.O.N.

 

He was going for himself.

 

***

 

 

And now it was midnight, and Lance was sitting upon a bench wrapped up in three layers of blankets that he had managed to pinch from the hospital cupboard when nobody had been looking, and sneaked out through the back entrance, a communicator resting cold in his front pocket, having been used the minute before.

 

Hugged to his chest, his arm throbbed slightly with pain, each throb echoing in time to his heartbeat.

 

He remembered Lotor’s face as he had hauled him up from the edge, the terrified worry that was etched into his yellow eyes, the tremor and shake of his elegant fingers as he had applied poultices and bandages to the cut that had opened up the blood on his stomach like an envelope. He could almost hear the whisper, the gasp of fear in his ear as Lotor had hurried him back to the ship;

 

‘ _Don’t you dare die on me, McClain, don’t you dare - I won’t forgive you if you die…’_

 

Lance shook his head, trying to brush the sound from his memory.

 

He didn’t want to think about why V.O.L.T.R.O.N’s most wanted villain had carried him to safety - why he had even come to his rescue at all, considering it was his father that had thrown Lance toward the black hole. Why had Lotor come running to him? Tearing across the gangway that led to the gaping entrance to the black hole, reached out with gloved hands and tore him out of it, yanking him back firmly into reality. Why Lotor appeared to care so much for him.

 

There was a click of heel on stone to his left. Lance looked over.

 

Silhouetted by a moon that appeared to almost be a silver halo against his outline, stood Lotor, wrapped away in a dark navy cloak that covered the black three piece suit he always wore, his long white hair pulled back from his head, tidied away into a trailing plait down his left shoulder.

 

For a moment or so, they stared at one another. Lance didn’t really know what to say to Lotor - after all, he had just yanked him out of a black hole and saved him from near death at the hands of his own father, and really, that was no way to start a conversation. 

 

Of course, Lotor was the one to start it.

 

‘I see you’re looking well.’ 

 

His deep voice reverberated through the stillness of the night.

 

Lance smiled. ‘I’m looking better than you, that’s for sure, princess.’

 

‘Princess…’ Lotor laughed breathily at the old nickname bestowed upon him. ‘I take it that you were treated well at the hospital.’

 

‘I guess I was - I was unconscious for most of my time there. But they gave me a chocolate pudding for dinner, so yeah. It was pretty good.’

 

Lotor laughed, soft and gentle, and the sound of it made Lance’s stomach do a little flip.

 

He took a step forward, and another, until he had reached Lance, kneeling down in front of him by the bench. 

 

Lance could smell him now - the smell of the cologne that he knew Lotor dabbed on the insides of his wrist and the pulse point of his neck; that smelt of something like mangoes and the sea breeze. From where he was, he could even make out the individual hairs that made up every chunk of hair within his plait, liquid silver shining in the moonlight.

 

But when he looked down into Lotor’s face, his breath was stolen from him, halting in his lungs. 

 

Deep within his warm lavender skin, above the high cheekbones, Lotor’s yellow eyes stared in Lance, greedily gorging upon the sight of him alive.

 

He raised his hands to the blankets around him, parting the fabric to see his arms, hissing in distaste, anger flickering briefly through his eyes at the arm pressed to his body encased in its blue case. He folded the blankets tightly around him, tucking him away into their warmth, before bringing them to Lance’s face, cupping it within his gloved hands, one thumb stroking his cheekbone, the small cut that was dashed across there. 

 

He let out a long, exhausted sigh. He shook his head. 

 

‘This is getting too much.’ he murmured under his breath. ‘I can’t keep letting this happen.’

 

Lance whispered, ‘Why did you come to save me?’

 

The words had come out before he had even thought it through. Almost immediately, Lotor’s hands froze, became rigid, his face twitching into blankness. He pulled his hands away, thrust them into the depths of his cloak, rose to stand before Lance and shuffled awkwardly.

 

He shrugged nonchalantly. ‘I couldn’t let you die.’

 

‘ _Why?’_

 

‘Who else is going to laugh at my jokes? Besides, you seriously think your bosses are going to send someone else to take care of me that can keep up with me the way you can? You think Keith can-‘

 

Lance cut him off. 

 

‘Don’t bullshit me,’ he said, Lotor’s eyes widening a little. ‘You wouldn’t have saved me for something as trivial as that.’

 

‘And what makes you so confident in that?’ Lotor’s eyes had narrowed.

 

‘Because I _know_ you,’ Lance insisted, ‘I know what you’re capable of, I know what you’re good at - and I know for absolute certainty that you wouldn’t let someone die because they laughed at your bad jokes.’

 

Lotor’s mouth had set into a thin line.

 

‘Why did you save me?’ Lance repeated.

 

Lotor didn’t reply. 

 

Lance looked down at the ground, at the plain regulation plimsolls he had managed to snatch along with the blankets, and the polished, black leather of Lotor’s boots, smooth and glossy.

 

He had to speak. Had to say something to Lotor, but it couldn’t be to let him think he could walk away from this bench and into the night. Couldn’t be more than just a thanks or a never mind or a forget what I said, I wasn’t thinking, I’m tired and I’m sore, but I wanted to see you, I wanted to talk to you, only if it was just for a minute, _because I need to know why you saved me._

 

But before he could say anything, anything at all, Lotor spoke. 

 

‘I never knew my mother.’

 

He spoke in a low, sombre tone, like he was trying to detach himself from the truth. Lance looked up to see him looking down at the path beneath him, like there was something more interesting there than in the boy that sat above it.

 

‘She died,’ Lotor continued, ‘When I was only four. I can’t remember her face. I can’t remember anything about her. Any memories I had of her faded. I was always under the impression that she had passed away from an illness that had been too much for her to fight.’

 

He paused.

 

‘I only found out when I was sixteen that my father had murdered her in a fit of rage. She had questioned his stance over a planet that owed him money, something like that. He hated that - he didn’t want to be called into questioning over his ideas, didn’t want someone to challenge the mighty Zarkon. So he strangled her. Throttled her until she was dead. Forbade anyone to tell the truth of the matter, and had her buried before anyone could get suspicious if anything had really happened.’

 

Lance felt his throat seize up. He thought of his own mother, who had waved him goodbye at the airport as he prepared to enter V.O.L.T.R.O.N, tears streaming down her face, hugging his father close, unable to bare the thought of her eldest boy leaving her.

 

Lotor continued, his voice as though it wasn’t his own. 

 

‘I wanted out then. I couldn’t live with him, having discovered what I did. So I tried to escape. Tried to join your little group. I figured it wouldn’t do me any harm, working with others, trying to fight crime, fight against an empire that I detested. 

 

But I couldn’t. I couldn’t follow their rules. I couldn’t stick with that hideous mantra of goodness - their stuckupness. That they really believed, deep down in their hearts, that they were the good ones; as if the world could be categorised so simply into the good people and the bad. That once you put one toe out of line,’ he snapped his fingers, ‘That was it. You were done. But then they went and forgave the person who almost destroyed them, claimed that anyone can be forgiven, that any act, if they repented enough, if they apologised enough, if they had proven if they had changed enough, was deserving of forgiveness.’

 

His eyes glittered dangerously in the light.

 

‘So I left. I left and I ran back to the father who had killed my mother, and I readied myself to take the throne of an empire I once attempted to destroy.’

 

He blinked, and a tear spilt down his cheeks.

 

Lance wanted to reach out to him, wanted to hold his hand within his own, to squeeze it and remind him it was all okay, that he was safe. But instead he said, his voice barely above a whisper, ‘But what does that have to do with me?’

 

Lotor laughed, brushed away the tear with the back of his hand and said, ‘Because I had fun with you. Because I wasn’t running a criminal empire. I was - I was -‘

 

He gestured, looking for the words that had escaped him. 

 

Lance found them for him.

 

‘You were happy.’

 

Lotor swallowed audibly. 

 

‘Yes,’ he said in a voice that was dangerously near a sob, ‘I was. And I couldn’t let that go.’

 

He took a hesitant step forward, closer to Lance, his hand darting out before stopping just before it touched his shoulder, fingers shaking with nerves and unsaid promises. 

 

‘I had my chance at playing a hero,’ he said, ‘And it failed. And I was back to being the villain once more. But when I got to be with you - when I got to talk with you - I - I didn’t _feel_ like a villain - I didn’t even feel like a hero. I just felt - I- I felt-‘

 

Tears began to trickle down his face, his hands beginning to curl into themselves. 

 

Lance stood up, stuck his hand through the blankets and chased after his own. Held it tightly. Watched Lotor’s face crease in confusion, teary yellow eyes leaking tears, lilac mouth trembling.

 

‘Yeah,’ Lance whispered, his voice barely louder than his heartbeat that pounded in his ears. ‘Yeah. I know what you mean. I know exactly what you mean.’

 

He stepped forward, and as best as he could with his bad arm kept in place, wrapped his arm around Lotor in a hug.

 

He felt Lotor freeze, his body stiffening. And then he was bending over, wrapping himself around Lance, his hands coming up to his shoulders, one nestling at the base of his head, in the soft hairs that were there, holding him close, wrapping him into his warmth, his tears.

 

Lance stood there, hugging him, pressing his face into Lotor’s shoulders, inhaling the scent of the sea, as Lotor hugged him back, holding him so fiercely it was like he was trying to entwine himself into him, until there was no distinction between villain and hero, between spy and mobster, between human and alien; until there was nothing but warmth and the soft patter of tears against the shoulder of a boy who cared.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Just in case anyone is confused - VOLTRON tried to stop Zarkon, who's currently head of GALRA, and Lance being the idiot he is, tried to confront him head on, only for Zarkon to chuck him into a conveniently plot-place black hole, wherein Lotor found him, took him to his ship and patched him up, put him in a nearby hospital without being caught, and Lance then went off and called him so he could ask him why he saved him.   
> I'm aware there are more plot holes in there than a sieve, so idk maybe i'll write this as a longer fic later on
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has left me kudos and comments on all my other works - you're wonderful


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